Spiders

I think they are out to get me. Now, before you say, 'Sarah, I think you're a little paranoid', just hear me out.

My dislike for spiders started at a very young age. I've been terrified of them for as long as I can remember. However, being the animal lover that I am, I made a pact with the spiders. If they were outside then I would not kill them. I may run away screaming but I wouldn't kill them. If they were inside...well, then I'd have every right to end their little blood-sucking lives.

It doesn't matter if they're big or small, hairy or not. They creep me out. Think about it. One minute you see them sitting on your wall or wherever the hell they are just being evil then you look away for one split second and they're gone. Where'd they go? Probably up your pant leg. To kill you. Or at least maim you to the best of their ability.

A little over-dramatic? Okay, fine. Maybe. But this week I have found a spider on my nightstand, one hanging from my recessed lighting in my bedroom, one in my shower and one, get this, on my freakin' bedspread. Hitting below the belt, if you ask me. Not to mention the fact that I have about ten webs outside on both of my patios and outside of my front door. They are descending. So, no. I am not being paranoid. They are out to get me.

Luckily for me I have lots of shoes to squish them with. It's on, evil spiders.